Perfect
by lucreziadormentaire
Summary: Lance went to the bar to find someone he could hook up with, but ended up with a roommate instead. (Klance modern AU)
1. Chapter 1

Dirty cloud of smoke curled in the gloomy space, illuminated only by the purple hue of the age-speckled bar lights. The sound of laughter and hushed conversation overpowered the loud thud of music that dominated the room. Lance crossed his legs and leaned onto the black wooden plank of the bar, drink in hand. The crowd was younger than he had expected – some students from a nearby university and men in suit who were probably not that older than him. He eyed the group before him, flaunting a playful smile at the blond young man in tight polo shirt that caught his gaze – but as he lifted his glass to take a sip, the man disappeared. As he turned around once again facing the bar, Lance sighed and slumped against the counter. Along the wall was a row of colourful liquid in their upside down bottles; Lance had to squint through the dim lightning to read the words written on each of them. He was about to raise a hand and call the server when a shot glass filled with dark-colored liquid was glided to his direction.

"You alone?"

Lance turned his head to his left, where a man – probably in his 30s – slid onto the stool next to him. He wore a professional but flirty smile, voice rough and face loose and long. Lance regarded him for a second.

"Depends." He answered just as flirty, eyes flicking from the scratch wound on the man's chin to the expensive looking pen hanging by the pocket of his suit jacket.

"You look too good to drink alone on a Friday night. Have some," the man gestured at the untouched drink.

Lance smirked. "I know." He lifted the glass, brought it to his face and as the sharp smell of drink wafted towards him, he scrunched his nose. With delicate fingers, he placed the drink back on the counter. "I'm not looking to get drunk tonight."

"Well, we could always skip the boring formalities." The man leaned in closer, but Lance was ready to hop off the stool when his wandering eyes landed on a figure; lean and thin and _perfect_ on Lance's book. The boy winded his ways through the warm bodies of the crowd, face set on a scowl that looked too cute to be intimidating. The gears on Lance mind clicked.

"I'm sorry," Lance said hurriedly, eyes never leaving his catch. "Got somewhere else I need to be." He twisted away from his stool; from the man; and made his way across the floor to where the figure sat on the far end of the bar. He looked _amazing_ in the purple light; glowing like he was unattainable. His dark long hair stopped just before his shoulder looked so soft and Lance itched to get his fingers buried beneath it. He was different from all the boys Lance tried to score with for the past few hours (and failing). Lance was determined to see this boy through.

Lance inhaled deeply, puffed out his chest trying to look confidence as he closed the distance between him and the boy in huge, certain steps. Even while being mildly tipsy his heart rate still rose and his face flushed redder.

"Hey!" he called, a little too loud maybe, but soon drowned out by the ambient. "What's up!"

The boy turned his head, dark wine eyes caught Lance's breath on his throat, and soon dropping momentarily to his low-cute neckline. "What do you want?" he snapped, the scowl on his face deepened.

Lance slid onto the stool next to the boy, slick like a snake on a hunt. "'ve been watching you for a while. You got no one to share such a nice drink with?" he nodded at the lone glass of whiskey sitting before the boy and grinned charmingly. "I'm willing to keep you accompany, oh, and nice haircut, by the way. You havin' the whole old school theme going on?" Lance gestured at the mullet, but only got an offending look in response.

The boy in red cropped jacket blinked his eyes in a seemingly absent-minded way and finished his entire drink in one gulp before narrowing his eyes at Lance. "Whatever it is you're trying to do, I'm not interested." He said sharply, and if Lance was as sensitive as he was 3 years ago, he'd probably deflate immediately.

"Wha – " and before Lance could rifle his brain for a witty comeback, the dark-haired boy scurried away, taking his backpack with him. Lance huffed. Another failed attempt. And this time with a really good-looking guy too.

Lance ordered a rum and coke before hopping off the stool and making a beeline towards a group in the middle of the room. Shit, alright, he was desperate. He'd got to score at least one tonight (though he wasn't against the idea of a threesome). He'd set his expectations high earlier that night, because, he damn well knew that he, Lance Mcclain, was an overall good looking man and almost exotic even. Tan skin, long legs, thin, careful fingers. It was just silly that other than some creepy old dudes – no one seemed to want him that night.

"Maybe I should just come here on a different day," he thought to himself. But he was tired. Tired of sleeping just by himself and waking up alone. Even though it'd probably be just a one night stand, Lance'd take it. At least he'd have someone to cuddle against in the cold of the night.

As the night grew deeper and the cute curly-haired boy he was hitting on levelled him with (yet another) uninterested glare, Lance resigned that maybe, today was just not his day. Could he possibly be losing his game already? At the age of twenty one?

Lance settled down on a couch at the corner of the room with his fifth drink that night. He heard the faint sound of a bell chime, signalling the last call. He glanced at the clock. 2.30. am. Pushing himself up on shaky legs, Lance was about to call it a night when he once again, spotted the familiar dirty mop of dark hair and red cropped jacket just across the room. The boy was talking to someone – someone too old for Lance's taste – before he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes in disinterest. With a wave of his hand he brushed the man away aloofly. Ouch. Lance watched in amusement as the man walked away.

Lance sauntered his way quietly, the crowd had thinned enough for him to keep his eyes on the red jacket guy. The boy tried talking to another new guy, but his expression soured over time, once again morphed into the same scary scowl the first time Lance laid his eyes on him.

But even with the scary look going on, Lance couldn't help but to note the desperation etched deep on his dark lavender eyes. Probably one more so than Lance's. He looked bewildered as he fled away from the last guy he was talking with – teeth biting into his lower lip rougher than necessary.

With a loud exhale, Lance muster up enough courage to approach the boy again. He was rejected once. He didn't know why he was so _concerned_. The cold air must've been messing with his head.

"Okay, tell me if I'm wrong, but we obviously have the same objective in mind," he began, inclining against the counter top.

The boy's eyes seemed to narrow as they settled on Lance. Rude. "You're wrong," he replied simply. "We obviously _don't_ have the same objective in mind. Go away."

"Dude! Come on! You've been here for like, 3 hours, drinking the same fucking whiskey and brooding all over the place!" he gestured wildly at the glass on the boy's hand like it'd offended him.

The dark-haired boy raised one of his perfectly trimmed eyebrows, a silent _yeah, so what?_

"You do know this is a _gay_ bar. Right.." Lance said slowly. "Do you even know what a gay bar is for –"

"I'm not looking for a casual hook up, in case you were wondering." The boy said. "You seem to excel at doing it, though." He deadpanned and waved at the empty space next to Lance, a sly smirk making its way across his face. Lance let that one slip by.

"Okay, so what are you looking for then? Or are you waiting for some dude who's never going to show up? Your secret lover or something? 'cuz if you are, then just say so and I'll be on my way."

The boy's eyes flickered with anger. "Why are you so interested in _me?_ Just… leave me alone!"

"Because you look like you might murder someone if I leave you alone, and also the bar's closing down soon. Last call."

Keith blinked at him in disbelief before bringing his gaze to the clock. "Shit," he hissed under his breath, thinking Lance wouldn't hear. He did.

"So?"

"Look, I know guys like you, alright. Been talking to your kind all night. You wouldn't understand." He dismissed Lance.

"Try me,"

The boy eyed him warily as though he was contemplating.

"I need a place. To crash." His voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. Lance had to strain his ears to listen.

"What?"

"My roommate kicked me out." He sighed. "I'm homeless. So, there. I'm not looking for… flings or whatever you perverts are trying to achieve. Happy now?"

"Why would you be looking for a place to crash in a gay bar?!" Lance shouted, forgotten to use his indoor voice for once. The boy glared at him, annoyed, before answering.

"Why? Do you think it's strange?"

"Yes, it's strange! Like there's so much more place you could – "

"I don't know where else to look, okay!?" he shouted, angrily, and for a second the bar went quiet as the patrons' attention was aimed at their direction. "Jesus, if you're just going to keep asking me all these questions… just stop. Leave me alone."

Lance flinched, drawing his arm back. He opened his mouth but anything that'd come out of his mouth would sound too intrusive, so he closed them straightaway. And judging from the way the boy had his guard up, there was no way he'd be able to get any answer out of him. So lance swallowed the nagging thoughts in his mind and relaxed his posture instead. He regarded the boy in front of him coolly, raking his eyes all the way down from his worn-out converse to his messy black hair and hummed in deliberation. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the bar counter, and the next words that left his mouth surprised even himself.

"I have a place. You can come home with me," Lance blurted out, eyes blinking repeatedly as if he couldn't believe himself.

The boy gaped at him, jaws slack, and it took him a while to school his expression back to the same pensive scowl. "Did you not hear me? I said I'm not interested in sex, so no thanks."

Lance scrunched up his nose, annoyed. "Dude. I'm – I'm trying to be _nice_. There's a vacant room in my place –"

"Well, what a fucking coincidence."

"I'm serious!" Lance stepped in closer, startling the boy in red. "I… I'm not even in the mood for sex anymore! So I'm just gonna ask you one last time before the offer flew out of the door. You coming home with me, or are you gonna sleep outside the shop, with nothing but cardboard on?"

The boy looked taken aback, his walls crumbling. There was a glimmer of hope in his violet eyes, one Lance couldn't help but to notice. His lips were trembling as he quietly said, "…Really?"

"Like I said, one last time…"

"OKAY – but – I mean –" he cut in hurriedly, eyes wide and hopeful. "until… 'til I earned enough money to be able to afford a place on my own…"

"Yeah, whatever dude, I have class all weekdays so it's not like we'll be seeing each other a lot. The room has always been empty lately anyway." Lance brushed his fingers against his nape and shrugged. "Anyway, I'm Lance,"

"Keith," the boy introduced himself awkwardly, ducking his head down. He looked at the hand hanging awkwardly at the space between them, torn between offering his hand and keeping up with his standoffish demeanour. Lance didn't seem to care that much.

"Alright Keith, let me show you the way to my ride."

Keith's eyes flashed with uncertainty, eyes big and round as he stared at Lance through his dark bangs. The smooth purple glow from the subdued lightning only adds to the softness of his pale skin and the pink of his cheeks. Lance gulped, swallowing the knot in his throat at the sight. Keith tightened the grip on his backpack as he nodded and the two of them escaped the loud music, shot glasses, and drunken conversations behind them.

* * *

And that was how Lance somehow ended up with… this moody ass rude retro-looking dude as his new roommate. Or flatmate. Both work.

Perhaps a couple years ago he'd flipped out at the idea of sharing a place with anyone outside of his family or his closest friends, but right now, 21 years old and affection-starved, Lance really didn't give a shit. Even though his initial idea of having a one-night-stand seemed to fail miserably, at least now he didn't have to spend the night alone. Not literally, anyway.

Lance's flat wasn't impressive per se, but it was a handsomely decorated place adorned in white, old faded tapestry panels. It wasn't big but modest, and not too empty. At least he thought it looked homey – like it was taken care of. The couch was cream and small, but enough for at least three people to squish into. The window panels and curtains were also white; making the room seemed brighter than it really was. There was no dining table – only the stools arranged beside the U-shaped counters in the connected kitchen. Keith couldn't look more impressed. Lance prided himself on that.

"This…" Keith closed his mouth once before he continued, "It's a really nice place." He breathed out, his eyes practically glowing.

Lance snorted, held his chin high. "Thanks, I know,"

Keith brushed off the way he'd involuntarily fed Lance's stupid ego. "You've had roommate here before?"

"Nah, just family. My sister used to live before she moved out with her boyfriend. It's closer to her workplace too, so, well,"

"I see," Keith stepped into the kitchen, fingers grazing against high polished wood countertops, free of dust and clutter.

"So." Lance said, breaking off Keith's daze. "I hope you like it here,"

Keith's eyes flickered, like he just still couldn't believe this was all happening to him. "Uh-huh. You're uh… you're not going to ask me to sleep with you in exchange… right?" he asked carefully, voice neutral and devoid of any malice.

Lance looked horribly appalled. "What the? Dude! Come on! I'm not that much of an ass!"

Guilt washed over Keith's expression. His eyes fell. "Okay. Thanks, uh, Lance," It didn't sound at all that genuine, told through gritted teeth, but Lance could live with that. This Keith guy seemed a tad difficult anyway. Lance sauntered to the kitchen, pulling a stool with his foot before taking a seat on it. He patted at the stool next to him in invitation.

"Since we're going to be roommate and all," he began as Keith took cautious steps in his direction. "You wanna tell me why you got kicked out?"

"Not really…"

"Yeah? I wanna know anyway,"

Keith sighed. "It's just that. My roommate found out about me… being gay."

Lance outwardly gasped. "Whaat? No, that's cold, man."

"He's very old-fashioned. Very traditional upbringing. I thought I was pretty good at hiding it though. Sucks."

"How did he found out then? Did you – oh man – did you ask him out?"

"Cliché," Keith snorted. "But, God no. Actually I'm kinda crushing on our neighbour instead… probably not too subtle about it too. But anyway, he found my stash of porn – that piece of shit even though I told him not to clean my fucking room – and so, here I am. He was scared nonetheless. Kicked me out like he'd just known me yesterday. I mean, I don't get why straight people thought I'd want to fuck every single person with a dick hanging between their legs. That makes no sense. I have a type."

"Really?" Lance noted with amusement. "And what's your type?"

Keith's eyes narrowed slightly at him. "Why would _you_ want to know? Are you… you know… you like guys too?"

"Buddy! I was in the bar too in case you hadn't notice! A-And I like both girls and dudes!"

"Hmm." Humming contently to himself, Keith tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, not looking at Lance as he continued, "My type is… someone who is tall and bulky, preferably with dark hair and undercut. And strong thighs. And prosthetic arm."

"P-Prosthetic arm?! You are describing a person, not your type!"

When Keith finally looked at Lance's face, a smirk was apparent on his smooth, pale face. Probably the closest of a smile Lance will ever coax out of him. "So what? Obviously you are _not_ my type. So you better pull whatever perverted thoughts you have out of that tiny head of yours, _buddy_." He said mockingly. Lance flushed embarrassingly red, his eyes glinted with shame and anger.

"Wh-Wha… What!? You – you're not my type either!" He jumped off the stool, pointing an accusing finger at Keith. "You… you stupid mullet! It's 2018… go get a haircut!"

"Leave my hair alone! And you were obviously trying to hit on me back in the bar!" he said as accusingly, rolling his eyes for emphasize.

"Did not! I hit on everybody! I treat everyone equally! So don't think you're special just because I was trying to pick you up!"

Keith let out a snort in mock amusement, fuming Lance's infuriation even more. "Yeah, that went well."

"You…" Lance hissed, deepening his frown as he balled his hand into a fist on his side. "If you gonna start living here I suggest we learn to respect each other, or you could freeze to death outside on the park benches for all I care!"

Keith's smirk faltered, and the gleam in his eyes switched back to the same frail and guarded state they were in back at the bar. "Fine."

With a last exhausted huff, Lance stepped outside the kitchen area and gestured to a door on his left. "This one's your room. Go to sleep." His voice was full of censure. He didn't wait to hear Keith's reaction before he reached for the one on his left and shut the door behind him.

* * *

 _Keith's bare skin looked paler here, surrounded by the moonlight. The tiny moans and gasps emitting from his cute little pink lips could send Lance to the moon. Wherever Lance touch felt smooth and cold, even though his own fingertips was burning like a furnace. He could hear the bed creaking whenever he bucked up his hips, searching for the tight heat that enveloped him like a cocoon._

" _Lance," Keith groaned, on top of him, but he couldn't see his face. "Lance…"_

Lance woke up with a gasp. (And a wet, sticky sensation inside his pants.)

It was almost 11 when he checked his phone. The sky had darkened and the rain had grown heavier. It was a rather gloomy way to start the day. Lance thought had the weirdest dream ever. Something about meeting this hot old-school looking dude in red leather jacket that hung above his waist, hair unruly and greasy but still unbearably hot, and he brought him home to stay with him and they fuck slowly on his bed until it was morning.

He laughed at himself for being so sexually deprived he started making this Keith person up. Keith wasn't even a good name. Sounded stupid.

Lance opened his door, the alcohol still throbbing in his head. The sight that greeted him made him jumped to his feet in horror. Keith was there – the _Keith_ in his dream – was sitting on his counter, no longer in his dumb cropped jacket but a black v-neck and red boxer, eating _his_ Cap 'N Crunch using a spoon _right from the fucking box_. Lance did not shriek like a girl. No he didn't. (he did.)

"Mornin'" he said leisurely with a mouthful of cereal. "Hope you don't mind me eating this way. I'm lactose intolerant."

Of course Lance fucking minded! It was so gross! He could at least fetch himself a bowl or something, fucking uncultured hog!

Lance was still gaping though, no sound escaping his lips while his mind still going miles a minute. "Wait, wh- what, Ke – Keith…?"he stuttered.

"Huh?"

"Wait… did we sleep together?"

"Uh, no." Keith's eyes fell to Lance's soiled pants, and he shot him an unimpressed look. "Please do not ever bring that up again,"

"Shit." He hissed. So the best part of his dream turned out to be just a dream indeed. But everything else? Not so much. He tried not to look too disappointed.


	2. Chapter 2

an: the story started in september. forgot to add it on the first chap lol

* * *

Lance woke up with a gasp. (And a wet, sticky sensation inside his pants.)

It was almost 11 when he checked his phone. The sky had darkened and the rain had grown heavier. It was a rather gloomy way to start the day. Lance thought had the weirdest dream ever. Something about meeting this hot old-school looking dude in red leather jacket that hung above his waist, hair unruly and greasy but still unbearably hot, and he brought him home to stay with him and they fuck slowly on his bed until it was morning.

He laughed at himself for being so sexually deprived he started making this Keith person up. Keith wasn't even a good name. Sounded stupid.

Lance opened his door, the alcohol still throbbing in his head. The sight that greeted him made him jumped to his feet in horror. Keith was there – the _Keith_ in his dream – was sitting on his counter, no longer in his dumb cropped jacket but a black v-neck and red boxer, eating _his_ Cap 'N Crunch using a spoon _right from the fucking box_. Lance did not shriek like a girl. No he didn't. (he did.)

"Mornin'" he said leisurely with a mouthful of cereal. "Hope you don't mind me eating this way. I'm lactose intolerant."

Of course Lance fucking minded! It was so gross! He could at least fetch himself a bowl or something, fucking uncultured hog!

Lance was still gaping though, no sound escaping his lips while his mind still going miles a minute. "Wait, wh- what, Ke – Keith…?" he stuttered.

"Huh?"

"Wait… did we… sleep together?"

"Uh, no." Keith's eyes fell to Lance's soiled pants, and he shot him an unimpressed look. "Please do not ever bring that up again,"

"Oh. Shit." He whispered, one hand automatically flew forward to cover his crotch. So the best part of his dream turned out to be just a dream indeed. But everything else? Not so much. He tried not to look too disappointed. Trying to dismiss the reality in which Lance just had a satisfying wet dream about Keith, he padded to the kitchen area and sat down across the said guy.

"Gimme that," he snatched the cereal box from Keith, ignoring the mutter of complaint that followed. "Also – fetch me a bowl and a carton of milk will ya? It's in the fridge."

"Are you not going to change your pants first?" Keith grumbled, reaching down the counter to pull out the bowl.

"Nah, man – hey, hey hey hey!" Lance fling a spoon at Keith's direction when the guy tried to open up the fridge with his foot. "Never do that again! Not in my house!"

Keith gave him the tongue, but retrieve the milk obediently without any further protest. He even poured the cereal just for Lance, and put it back on the fridge effortlessly. They ate in silence. Whenever he got the chance, Lance would sneak a peek at Keith – the guy he brought home while he was drunk on booze – and he caught himself wondering how their relationship would go on from here. They were barely acquaintances, definitely not friends, but Lance brought him back anyway. Keith's hair was jet black and coarse, his nose thin and delicate. He was prettier than he was handsome. The colour of his eyes was kind of funny though. Round and purple just like plums –

Keith noticed him staring and those cute eyes narrowed. "What?" he bit out.

"Nothin'" Jesus he was snappish as fuck.

Keith droned. "So, you have anything scheduled today?"

"Uh-huh. Supplementary lesson at 5."

"I see. You're a college student, right?"

"Yep. I'll graduate in a year… or two. Probably. Anyway, what about you? How old are you?" Lance cringed, mostly at himself. He should probably asked him before bringing him home.

"I'm twenty two."

Lance exhaled in relief. "Oh, cool. I'll turn twenty two next year. Then… you're also a student, right?"

"I dropped out." Keith replied with a shrug, shoving another spoonful of cereal inside his mouth. "Currently working in a car wash just across the square."

"What… why?"

Keith fixed a glare at Lance's direction. His sharp eyes scorching holes in Lance, and whenever he stared at him, Lance could feel it brand against his skin. "Don't know. I just don't feel like it."

Lance's mouth hung open, his eyes wide. "So you … dropped out? Just like that…? Wha – h – how?! I mean, college sucks, and I get you, honestly, but I don't think I have that kind of guts." He laughed, clamping a hand across his mouth. "If most of the students have guts like yours half of the universities would be almost empty by now. I know I would leave. But I think about my parents sometimes too…" The taller guy trailed off, feet wriggling restlessly underneath the counters. "Any plan on going back to college?"

Keith blinked at him, once, before his gaze lingered on the cereal box. "Not really."

"Ever?"

Keith only shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "I like my job."

"But you're not going to spend your entire life working at a car wash, right?"

"So what? The pay is okay, and I don't have to socialize more than necessary."

Lance tutted, dragging his attention back to his bowl of cereal. "You're still young, you can do better than a minimum wage job, Keith."

He could feel Keith ran his eyes appraisingly over his face and body. He let out a derisive snort. "Oh look at me, I'm Lance, I have a degree and in two years I'll probably land myself on a perfect job working my ass off behind a tiny desk for the rest of my life."

Lance looked at him, eyes wide in hurt. He refused to respond, annoyed. Keith did a double check, this time though, his eyes were flooded with guilt. He gritted his teeth together before inhaling sharply.

"Shit. Um. Sorry." He said, refusing to meet the other's eyes. "I'm just. I'm really bad… at this."

Lance tilted his head questioningly.

"People. Talking. Sometimes I said things I didn't mean and… uh. It's been a really tough week for me so…"

Lance's stance relaxed as he regarded the way Keith fidgeted in his seat, eyes never staying in one exact spot. Suddenly he was reminded of Stella Brown who sat next to him the entirety of fifth grade. She was a cheery young girl, Lance used to have a tiny crush on her even, until one day his homeroom teacher told the class that Stella's brother passed away due to a traffic accident. Lance had never seen her smile again after that. She shut herself completely, ignoring all his attempt at bringing up a conversation, even to go as far as insulting him in an act of self-pity. They didn't talk anymore even until graduation rolled around. The way he saw the world when he was little and the way he saw them now were completely different.

"I understand, Keith." Lance began softly. "That's okay. We can start slow. It's uh, partly my fault too, for being too intrusive…"

"Yeah." Keith smiled. A tiny, but genuine smile. "I'm very… grateful you know. For everything. The roof above my head and um," he lifted the box still in his hand. "The free cereal,"

Lance clicked his tongue and wiggle his index finger. "Ohoho, but it's not free at all. We're going to take turn in buying groceries."

"Alright. I could live with that. Is there anything else I could do? You want me to pay half of the rent –"

"No, no, my parents own the place. I used to live here with my sister, remember? I need only to pay the gas and electricity bills. Sometimes my parents would come over with groceries too, so they mostly got me covered."

Keith deflated. "Oh. We could split the bills…?"

"How about you focus on saving up for your own place? Especially if you're so adamant on working at the car wash." Lance told him standing up and collecting his dishes. He turned his back to Keith and padded to the sink, turning the faucet on. They argued for a while afterwards, while Lance washed the remaining dishes from his previous days, and at the end of it they finally came to a decision to at least let Keith pays for most of the needed groceries. Even with that verdict, Keith still looked mildly uncomfortable. Lance was glad Keith didn't turn up to be that much of an asshole he thought he was.

They also decided to split chores, and even though Keith told him honestly that he'd rarely do dishes, Lance still gave him dishes duty (much to Keith's chagrin). He couldn't remember the last time he was talking this much while doing chores.

(It was a nice change.)

Once, on a rare sunny afternoon while he was tying the knots of his shoes, Lance caught a glimpse of Keith staring longingly at the small potted marigolds lining the top of his window stool. His eyes were memorable for being a faded, mournful purple. Lance blamed the stormy weather for the unsteady beat of his heart.

Every time he passed by the flower shop across his usual café, the bright yellow flowers perched in front of the display window would always remind him of the aching look on Keith's face.

* * *

Later that month, when the weather turned from bad to worse, Lance was stuck in a café with Hunk. So he told his friend about Keith.

Saying that Hunk wasn't pleased to hear the news would be an understatement.

"Buddy, you do not bring a stranger from a bar and let him live at your house that's like how to get yourself murdered in a span of a week. I don't like this, Lance," Hunk chided. "I don't like this Keith guy."

"It's been like what, three weeks? I'm still alive and well, aren't I?" Lance grinned at his friend who clearly didn't buy it. His glare made Lance's smile fell.

"Lance," Hunk said in a tone that made Lance felt like he was ten all over again.

Crossing his arms and sulking like a petulant child, Lance huffed out a sigh. "Hunk, come on. He was desperate okay? It's like picking up a stray puppy. I feel bad."

Hunk raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Okay. Jeez. Fine. Despite the awful temper, he's _hot_. And he's also pretty docile? Like, when he's done with his shift all he does is lay around in the couch eating chips and watching National Geographic. We even bonded over my shit taste in movies. That's saying something."

Hunk exhaled, his breath smell of coffee. "Lance, oh Lance. This is why I worry about you sometimes – no, scratch that. All the time."

"But it's just. It's a really nice change of pace, Hunk. Really. I haven't been down lately and since I can't get him inside my pants might as well get him inside the house, y'know?" Lance joked, but he supposed his seriousness showed on his face, because Hunk's shoulders slumped in resignation as he groaned.

"I'm happy if you are happy Lance, you know that." Taking advantage of the moment, Lance slipped his charming smile. "Just. Promise me you're going to let me meet this Keith guy eventually." He added.

"Sure thing bud!"

(Hunk visited at the end of the month, bringing along his signature pumpkin pie. He gets along fairly well with Keith.)

* * *

 **October**

Lance was double checking his calculus assignments when Keith came stumbling down the doorway. He was bruised pretty badly – his pretty face was beaten up and lips torn. There was blood dripping down his nose. Lance stood still for a moment until the initial shock came down.

"What in the heavens happened to you?!"

Keith merely groaned in response. Lance wasted no time grabbing his arm and forcefully dragging him to the bathroom, where he pushed Keith to sit down at the edge of the tub. He rummaged through the cabinets for first-aid kit.

"You don't have to…" Keith managed weakly. Lance stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he shook his head bewilderment, holding a bottle of disinfectant in one hand and a wet towel in the other. "So you're telling me to just sit down and watch tv as you bleed all over my floor when it's Wednesday where I have mopping duty? Not happening, buddy."

Keith chuckled, his voice gruff, and flinched when the split on his lips opened too much. Lance sighed, dropping down to his knees until they were eye to eye.

"So, you gonna tell me what happened or am I supposed to keep making wild guesses?" he dabbed the towel against Keith's face, wiping away the traces of drying blood. His skin was drier than it seemed to be; probably from all the cigarettes he smokes.

Keith hmm-ed, closing his eyes. "Got into a fight with this Danny Zuko-lookin' guy 'cuz he was harassing Eric, and then he brought he whole gang."

"Who's Eric?!" Lance asked. "And how are you still able to make a Grease reference while looking like you'd just been wrung dry?"

"It was the first thing that went through my mind at the time."

"Okay, so he was good looking?"

"Very." Keith hissed when Lance applied the med against his sensitive skin. "But also a major pain in the ass."

"Oh he's a pain in your ass alright." Lance stood upright to fetch a plaster before placing them on Keith's cheek. "You got whooped."

"Hey! It's four against one!"

"Uh-huh sure, honey." He patted Keith's cheek one more time, just to make sure. "Aren't you a brave little kitten." He cooed, skilfully dodging the friendly jab heading his way. With a laugh, he exited the bathroom, but not before throwing the dirty towel at Keith's lap.

It was always like this with Keith lately. Being with him was easy. Lance was almost afraid he'd get too comfortable, but he pushed the thought far, far away in the back of his mind.

"So, what are you working on?" Keith joined Lance on the bar once he was done cleaning up, holding an ice bag against his swollen cheek.

"Calculus II. My favorite." Lance panned, gaze never leaving the papers before him. "I'm always bad with math. Like, really bad. Once I cried myself to sleep because I hadn't been able to finish an assignment back in high school."

"Can I see?"

"Huh?"

Keith offered. "Maybe I can help?" without waiting for an answer from Lance, he took the papers and examined it closely, humming to himself. With no words what so ever, he plucked the pen right from Lance's grasp and start writing down on his paper.

"Whoa – dude – what are you doing?!"

"Here, this is why you're stuck, dumbass." Keith made a circle using the pen on an equation. "This is wrong, and also this. Really close call." He scribbled down the right answers on one page and another.

Lance watched with growing amazement – not at the home works, but at Keith; the Keith who looked extremely good-looking with his brows pinched in concentration. "B – But, how…?"

Keith raised his stare and their eyes locked. "What do you mean _how_?" he snarled, but there was no apparent bite to his tone.

"Before you dropped out – what were you studying?"

"Biomathematics."

Lance gasped dramatically. "Oh my God, I don't even know what that is but that sounds cool. So you're actually really smart?"

"It's just mostly your everyday biology. With math." Keith snickered, his eyes twinkling as he did so. Lance smile grew wider. The silence that followed was relaxing, secure. Neither of them pulled their gazes away, the uneasiness that was present before seemed to disappear with time.

The rain poured in gentle waves, the sweet sound distant and muffled.

Lance had noticed lately. The lingering stares. Quiet regards. But he didn't act on it. It could probably just his wild imagination. He did dream about Keith (twice).

"You know. I told Shiro about you, said he'd like to meet you." Keith was the first one to pull his gaze away, his expression back to the usual immobile state.

"Shiro?"

"He's my childhood friend. We were neighbor. Makes sense that he's the first person I told about you."

"Oh you mean… he's the…" Lance trailed off, the next words that threatened to leave his mouth left a bitter sensation on its wake. He began collecting his assignments without looking in Keith's direction. So very suddenly he realized he didn't really know anything about Keith outside of the flat – the guy he'd been living with for almost a month. Keith very rarely talked about himself and usually flat out avoiding talking about his life at all. He didn't know who he'd been hanging out with after work, or why sometimes he went back later than usual. It made something in his gut twist uncomfortably.

Keith rolled his eyes. "Yes. We usually hang out at the diner in west Madison. Since he's bringing his girlfriend along I thought I'd bring – "

"Wait – what?! He has a girlfriend?!"

"Uh. Yes?" Keith twirled the end of his mullet with his fingers, the look on his face nonchalant. "Guess I never mentioned that to you."

Lance put his hand on his chest and gasped theatrically. "I'm really sorry to hear that, Keithy."

"No you're not. You seem to enjoy riling me up, huh?" Keith aimed a murderous glare in his direction.

"That's okay Cathy dearest," Lance pursed his lips. "You'll find another bulky, dark haired hottie with prosthetic arm somewhere!" the image of an actual good-looking, tall, bulky guy floated before his eyes, causing his stomach to clench nervously.

"I'm kind of half amazed you still remember, actually." Keith muttered, an amused smile playing on his lips. Lance felt his cheeks warmed up at the gesture. "So you gonna come or not?"

They ended up going on the next Friday evening. It was a classic diner, the walls fully decorated with various football-related posters, framed articles and photographs. Lance let himself soak in the ambient music for a few moments as they waited for Shiro and his _girlfriend_ to arrive. He looked around at the busy tables. A family and their children. Young couple drinking milkshake from the same glass. Businessmen in their suits lighting up cigars. He was convinced that the two women sitting on the tiny stools at the bar were dating. He smiled at the thought.

For someone who claimed he's lactose intolerant, Keith ordered the most expensive dessert – a Belgium waffle topped with vanilla ice cream with many toppings. Lance looked at him with inquisitive eyes in which Keith only shrug in response.

The waiter came returned with Lance's order, a plate of Turkey sandwich and a glass of chocolate milkshake. He thanked him with a flirty smile before the waiter left, ears glowing red. From his seat he had a view of the entrance, only couples came and left. As he was picking up his fries, Lance almost jumped on his seat. From the corner of his eye she realized someone familiar making her way to his table; he glanced up at her face. He opened his mouth, but Keith beat him to it.

"Shiro! Over here!"

Lance checked this Shiro person as he walked closer, a wide, friendly smile on his face. This "Shiro" must be older than twenty-five judging by his university jock build and the soft lines on his face. He was even more good looking than Lance's mind had made up. The cut across his nose did nothing to deter the air of dominance around him. Lance had to remind himself that staring so blatantly was rude to finally close his gaping mouth. Shit, no wonder Keith had a crush on him. He would too, given the chance.

But more importantly! – Lance brought his gaze back to the woman who had her hand around Shiro's arm.

"Allura is Shiro's boyfriend?!"

* * *

thx for reading up to this part lmao. seriously. thanks. leave a review if you want to~


	3. Chapter 3

They ended up going on the next Friday evening. It was a classic diner, the walls fully decorated with various football-related posters, framed articles and photographs. Lance let himself soak in the ambient music for a few moments as they waited for Shiro and his _girlfriend_ to arrive. He looked around at the busy tables. A family and their children. Young couple drinking milkshake from the same glass. Businessmen in their suits lighting up cigars. He was convinced that the two women sitting on the tiny stools at the bar were dating. He smiled at the thought.

For someone who claimed he's lactose intolerant, Keith ordered the most expensive dessert – a Belgium waffle topped with vanilla ice cream with many toppings. Lance looked at him with inquisitive eyes in which Keith only shrug in response.

The waiter came returned with Lance's order, a plate of Turkey sandwich and a glass of chocolate milkshake. He thanked him with a flirty smile before the waiter left, ears glowing red. From his seat he had a view of the entrance, only couples came and left. As he was picking up his fries, Lance almost jumped on his seat. From the corner of his eye she realized someone familiar making her way to his table; he glanced up at her face. He opened his mouth, but Keith beat him to it.

"Shiro! Over here!"

Lance checked this Shiro person as he walked closer, a wide, friendly smile across his face. This "Shiro" must be older than twenty-five judging by his university jock build and the soft lines on his face. He was even more good looking than Lance's mind had made up. The cut across his nose did nothing to deter the air of dominance around him. Lance had to remind himself that staring so blatantly was rude to finally close his gaping mouth. Shit, no wonder Keith had a crush on him. He would too, given the chance.

But more importantly! – Lance brought his gaze back to the attractive woman who had her arm around Shiro's bicep.

"Allura is Shiro's boyfriend?!" Lance asked through clenched teeth.

"What? You knew her?" Keith turned to him. Lance was about to answer him when he heard Allura's voice breaking through the soft murmur inside the diner.

"Oh my, Lance? Is that really you?"

Lance visibly jumped and mumbled a soft "Shit," before standing up to greet her. He knew Keith was looking at him weirdly.

"Oh, crikey! It really is you, Lance!" Allura jumped to his direction and pulled him into a heart-warming hug, her loose silver hair hurdled around them. "It's been too long!"

"Yeah, fancy seeing you here, Allura." He patted her back, movement a little too stiff, but she didn't comment on it. She pulled back, face still adorned with the same pleasant smile Lance last remembered.

"Well, that leaves the awkward greetings then," he heard Shiro said, and immediately peeled himself as far away from Allura. "I'm Takashi Shirogane, but everyone calls me Shiro. Thanks for taking care of Keith."

Lance smile waned for a moment, before he willed himself to grin again. He moved swiftly in front of Shiro, accepting his hand in greeting. "Lance. McClain. And no problem, really."

"No, seriously. Thank you." the hand around him tightened and Lance dropped his eyes to see that it wasn't flesh. When he looked up again, Shiro was staring at him solemnly. Lance only nodded. "I see you're already associated with Allura,"

"We were in the same middle school and high school before Allura moved back to London. Never thought you'd be back here, and in Chicago of all cities." Lance said reservedly, rubbing his nape.

"Lance is like my little brother. We were neighbors back when we lived in Denver. I never thought I'd see you again when Shiro said we're going to meet up with Keith's friend! When did you arrive in Illinois? How was your family?" Allura gushed, curling an arm around Lance's.

"A little over two years ago. I got accepted in the university here. And everyone's fine! Luis is going to apply for college in a few months."

"That's great news! I can't believe little Luis is going to university already. I feel so old. Coran is still back in London, but he'd definitely love to see you again!"

"Age has nothing on you, princess," Lance flirted, winking at her suggestively, but she simply laughed. (Shiro too, to his relief.)

Lance was too caught up with the conversation to realize that Shiro had taken a seat on a chair across from Keith. He automatically sat down next to Keith, Allura right in front of him. Allura was still as beautiful since the last time he saw her. He knew he was sighing dreamily at her the entire dinner, but she and Shiro didn't mind. The two of them were such a perfect, nice couple. Lance was, to his surprise, really happy for her. He sneaked a glance or two at Keith too, somewhere in the middle of a lively conversation, but Keith, as always, remained completely unreadable. He'd chuck a straw at Lance once, when he couldn't stop giving Allura the love-struck look. It was near 9 o'clock when Allura and Shiro excused themselves. They exchanged contact numbers with Lance with a promise of future meet up.

Keith let out a big sigh as the couple exited the restaurant. "Good thing he didn't commented on my bruises." He looked jaded, but Lance noted the way his hollow, yearning gaze lingered on the doorway a little longer than necessary.

Lance snickered. They ordered a biscuit and gravy as take-out before leaving for the night.

Thanks to the extravagant sugar intake earlier, they couldn't bring themselves to sleep that night, so Lance turned his laptop on, and they watched Singing in the Rain together on Lance's tiny cream couch. Also, Lance finally had an excuse to eat the popcorn that had been sitting on his cabinet for God knows how long. With the weather gradually getting colder and colder, being huddled close to Keith felt perfect.

"What's up with you and Allura?" Keith asked somewhere in the middle of the movie.

"Oh. Uhhh…" Lance bit his nail now that they were no more food to chew. "I used to have this huge ass crush on her."

Keith exhaled a low chuckle. His attention shifted to Lance. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. But, the last time I saw her I was this, short ugly nerd kid. Not my proudest moment."

Keith turned himself completely facing Lance. He dragged his eyes from his toe to his head. "You can't be that bad. I mean, you look okay now."

"I mean it. I was… uh, horrible, horrible time." Lance shook his head when he remembered his high school self. A shiver ran through his spine.

"Hmm. Do you have a photo?"

"Why would you want to see my old photo?!"

"Just go get it." Keith kicked him out of the couch and Lance grumbled but crawled to the cupboard under the TV to grab his high school yearbook nevertheless. True to his words, Lance did look awful few years prior. He had braces and wore dated pair of glasses. His face was littered with freckles and acne scars. Keith couldn't stop laughing he choked on his own spit.

"Okay, I take that back." Keith finally said after a while, between his wheezing. "What the _fuck_ happened to you Lance?"

Lance yanked the book back to his lap, his entire face glowed red with shame. "I told you it was the darkest moment of my life! Good thing my sister always used me as a guinea pig of her skin care product before she used it on her." He patted the book on his lap. "Also when I realized… I like boys too, I thought to myself 'shit, I can't even score a date with one girl how am I supposed to woo a guy?' so there's that."

Keith's face lit up with delight. "Well, kudos to your sister for working on a miracle."

"Why? 'cuz you admit I'm irresistible now?"

Keith nudged his shoulder playfully. "Alright, don't push your luck now, pretty boy."

Lance gaped at the boy before him, eyes wide as saucers. He could feel the air in the room go still. "Oh my god." He spoke slowly. "You just called me pretty! Keith Kogane told me I'm pretty!"

"Wh – Why are you so surprised!?" Keith backed away a little, taken aback by Lance's restlessness. "I remember you talking to your own reflection about how pretty you are!"

Lance gave him a flat stare, a silent _duh_ in the air. "Yea well. Coming from you is different. Because usually you have a potty mouth and you're like…" he gestured at the air between them. "so fucking gorgeous."

Keith blushed, a full-faced flush that had taken over his entire face. Lance almost forgotten how to breathe because he looked _so_ sweet. "I – I'm not." He sputtered, bringing his attention back to the forgotten movie.

"'s too bad Shiro is missing out on you." Lance jested. "Do you um… you still like him?"

It was a question that had been bothering him since they left the diner, prodding at his thoughts like an itch he'd wanted to scratch.

Keith stiffened, eyes like glue stuck to the screen. He didn't answer, not even until the credits rolled out, not even until they went back to their respective rooms and bid each other good night.

Lance, in his twenty-one years of life, had never felt this shitty.

* * *

Nearing the end of the month, they had run out of mostly everything (bread, toothpaste, soap, cereals because Keith only eats cereals like the brute he is) that they decided to go on a full fledge grocery shopping. Good thing today was Keith's day off and Lance didn't have any class until the afternoon.

Keith was quiet the entire trip, not that it was strange. He was weird that way. But while he thought that 'cuz they'd bonded for more than a month Keith would open up more, boy, was he wrong.

He could feel that Keith was still uncomfortable around him, especially when he admitted that he hadn't collect enough money to afford a room. Lance had brushed him off countless of time, saying that it didn't really matter – because honestly, it didn't. Being with Keith didn't add any unnecessary load into his life (except for the weight in his heart, but Lance was good at playing cool) instead he made new friend, who was kind of mysterious but also nice and funny. And Lance wouldn't trade it for anything. It was just sooo hard to get that point across to Keith.

(sometimes Keith would do more chores that weren't in his schedule even though he was worn out from work. Lance hated it when he did that.)

It was when he was waiting for Keith to finish paying that his phone buzzed. Allura rarely texted him unless he texted her first, so of course he'd open any message from her instantly.

 **princess Allura (15:24):** Shiro told me today is Keith's birthday. Sad that we're currently out of town, but make sure you spend it with him! shiro said he's a bit difficult when it comes to celebrating his own bday. Talk to you later Lance.

"What the fuck," Lance mouthed quietly to no one in particular. He stole a glance at Keith who still had this blank look on his face like he just basically didn't care. Fuck. Thinking about it, not telling anyone about his own birthday was indeed, so Keith. He quickly typed in a short thank you message to Allura and Shiro before helping Keith carry the bags.

He acted as if he was checking his phone as he waited for Keith to buckle up his seatbelt. He paused again for a good whole minute before saying, "My class is canceled for today. Wanna go eat out?"

Keith raised a brow at him. "We could just order take outs and eat at home?"

"No, no. I want to eat somewhere nice. My treat."

"Okay?"

"Great. It's a date then."

Keith crossed his arms, looking at him through his bangs. "It's _not_ a date."

"Alright, cool. I'm up for another not-date date." Lance said meekly, starting up the car. Beside him, he could hear Keith exhaled loudly, but when Lance turned to look at him with a playful grin, Keith replied with an amused smile of his own.

Lance drove to a small, fancy Italian restaurant on Palmer Square, despite Keith's whining. The restaurant was full. He was lucky the waiter was able to squish them on the last couple table. By the time they sat down the restaurant was the color of auburn, the afternoon sun filtered through the window. The interior was warm and modest, with dim lights and crisp white walls ornamented with huge photograph of a castle. A single candle was placed on the table, its glow illuminated the features on Keith's face, making him look younger than he really was.

"I honestly don't understand what's on the menu." He admitted, squinting at the book in hand.

"That's cute." Lance was so lost on watching Keith trying to spell the name of the foods that he didn't realize the server had come to take their orders. The man offered them their best wine. Lance didn't refuse.

Halfway into their main course, Keith leaned back against the wall. "Lance,"

"Hm?"

"Is this a date?"

"Only if you want it to be."

Keith smiled, but it was small and sad. Lance frowned.

"What's wrong?"

Keith shook his head. "Nothing. Just… a really bad timing, that's all."

"You're not having a good time?" Lance asked, voice barely a whisper. Keith caught his gaze and there was a brief moment of panic as he repeatedly shook his head.

"No! It's not that at all! it's just… I've never been on this kind of thing before, you know. Fancy dinner, with wine, and all that shit." He admitted bashfully, cheeks growing a little pink. The sight of it made Lance swoon in his seat. "Not to mention we're both dressed like we'd just jumped straight out of bed."

"So. You're having fun?"

Keith paused for a moment like he was thinking, before bringing his glass closer to his mouth. "Yeah."

When they exited the restaurant, the moon had made itself seen high in the sky. The ride back home was a serene quiet, accompanied by the soft lull of jazz music from the beaten-up car radio. Keith's cheeks were both tinted pink from the wine, and even though he argued that neither of them should drive in their current state, Lance was miraculously still sober enough to do so.

He passed by his university before making a stop at a nearby parking lot.

"You wait here." Lance said from the gap between the car door. "I just need a little trip to the convenience store. I'll be quick." Keith nodded and he closed the door.

He speed-walked, passing the said convenience store on his way to a certain shop. He checked the clock on his phone, praying to whatever Gods out there that the shop was still open.

(it was.)

When he returned to the car, Keith was tilting his head against the window watching the street drowsily. "That wasn't quick." His words were slurred, and he kept his eyes forward like he didn't even care.

"Yeah. Sorry." Lance sat down and closed the door. There was a rustling noise.

Keith turned his head. "What did you even – "

Lance shoved the sunny-colored bouquet – marigolds – he'd bought just then to the boy next to him. "Happy birthday, Keith." He murmured. It was just a simple bunch; four stems of marigolds and two yellow tulips, but the sweet aroma filtered the small space like a gust of strong wind.

Keith's face was a mixture of different emotions before he settled on looking awestruck. He tilted his chin up, looking up at the roof before wheezing out a "What the ever-loving fuck." he brought his hands together and rubbed his face like he couldn't believe himself. Like he was trying to absorb everything at the same time. "Are you fucking joking Lanceee?" his voice was muffled, but it was surprisingly brisk and bright.

"Why would I be joking?! I bought you flowers!" he could hear Keith catch his breath. He became quiet all of a sudden. Lance hadn't expected this. Suddenly he could feel unease rise within him.

"Keith?"

When Keith lowered his hands enough for Lance to see his eyes, both of his ears are red. "I take it your class wasn't canceled?"

Lance was silent for a while, engraving the scene to his memory. Finally he answered, "Nope."

Keith, at last, brought his hand down, draping his fingers around the bouquet. "You're so unbelievable." He shook his head like he was upset that Lance had skipped his class, but there was softness deep within his eyes as he gazed at the flowers in his grasp. "You really shouldn't."

Lance recalled Shiro's words about Keith doesn't really like celebrating his own birthday. He swallowed before asking, "Do you… hate it?"

"I love it." Keith's answer was immediate. Quick. Simple. He didn't even spare a glance in Lance direction – soft, vulnerable eyes trained on the bright colored petals of flowers. "Marigold is my mother's favorite flower." He brushed his finger against one of the petals, his touch light and delicate.

"Thank you, Lance."

(Keith kept the flowers inside a vase and kept them on the coffee table until they wilted on their own.)

 **November**

On one cold, cold morning in November, Lance was woken up to a chilling sensation right against his spine. The full body shiver had pulled him out of his slumber, but the slippery feeling made him jump to his feet.

"Wh – what the hell?!" he shrieked, hands reaching out to his back. It was wet. He was still dizzy from the sudden movement he barely registered Keith standing beside his bed, hands on his hips, snickering. "Keith! Did you just wake me up with an _ice cube_? On my back?!"

There was a satisfying thud as the cube fell down to the floor next to his feet. "You're the one who told me to wake up you early. You have an important test today, remember?"

"Yeah, but ice? Really?!"

Keith raised his shoulders with a guilt-free look across his face. Lance shoved him gently and scoffed like an angry cat. He could hear Keith's laughter all the way to the bathroom.

It was supposed to be just a quick trip to the bathroom (due it being cold an all), but he ended up jerking off.

"I really need to get laid." He said absent-mindedly around a mouthful of bagel.

Keith leveled him with a bemused stare. His nose was slightly upturned. His lips were slightly crooked, his face plump and adorable. Without thinking Lance wanted to hug his slender body. Shit, nobody deserved to look that good with his sister's apron. "Huh. I see it's been…2 months since your little trip to the bar. I have to say I'm amazed that you're able to hold on this long." He said, turning the stove off, placing the burnt egg down on a plate. "If you're worried about me being here then – don't. I won't leave the room if you told me to."

"No, no, I won't bring anyone home." Lance poked the abomination in a shape of an egg with his fork. "First, I'm scared of what it'll do to our relationship, and second, the walls here are too thin."

Keith hid his smile with his palm. "Yeaaah… tell me about it. You're very loud even when you masturbate. I'm seriously concerned for your sister, back when she was still living here, with you."

"What?!" Lance's silverware flew across the room. "WH – Why didn't you tell me?! Holy… holy shit –"

Keith fought to bit back a sardonic laugh. "What am I supposed to tell you? that you've been moaning loudly whenever you beat your meat?"

"YES."

"Well then." Keith slid onto the stool. "I just did." Even with that coy grin, he was still attractive.

Lance's mouth opened and then closed, like a fish out of water. "Oh my God Keith, I can't believe – "

"Pfft." Keith held his hand in front of his mouth, but still unable to hold his laugh. "Ahahahahah," he placed one hand across his stomach and laughed a full-bellied laugh, his cheeks reddened. It showed in his eyes, in the way his face changed into that vision of relaxed joy and unrestrained mirth. Lance thought Keith's laughter was the loveliest thing he'd ever seen.

Lance pouted his lips, but incapable of holding his anger for too long. Soon he was joining Keith, his breakfast forgotten.

When he came home, later that afternoon, he was thrilled to see Keith on the front door of his house. They had arrived at the same time. Even though Lance did say they wouldn't be seeing each other often due to their schedules, he was glad for all the time he could spend together with Keith and had learned to appreciate every second of it.

Like now.

"You look happy." Keith said while unlocking the door.

"Yes, yes, listen." Lance gushed, still high in exhilaration. "I fucking aced the tests, dude. I'm gonna have straight As."

"Really?" Keith sounded doubtful. Lance hoped he was joking. As soon as the door clicked open, Lance pulled Keith by the arm and dragged him inside the house. The sound of their hurried steps echoing in the dim hallway.

"I feel like celebrating." Lance said, never letting go of his grip. Keith just laughed; voice as clear as bells.

"The scores not even out yet."

They stood at the center of the room, Lance fiddling with his phone for a while before he set it on the coffee table, Ed Sheeran's Perfect playing in the background. "Dance with me,"

Keith's eyes went wide. Lance had sounded so hopeful; almost like a plea. "Oh, no no no no." Keith attempted to yank his arms free, but to no avail. "I don't dance, Lance. And that choice of song is tacky." He pouted his lips while struggling. It was cute.

 _I found a love for me  
Darling just dive right in  
And follow my lead_

The music spun around them like twirling thread. Lance rested his hand on his back and started moving his feet. "Lance," Keith warned, but he moved with him, swaying.

 _I will not give you up this time  
But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own  
And in your eyes you're holding mine_

Lance's movements flowed with grace and he could feel Keith eyeing him intensely, like he had no idea what to do. He was tense. But Lance saw way his lips lifted upward. The warm glow of bliss that softened his features.

 _Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms  
Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song_

Then Keith laughed. "I cannot take you seriously with this song." He squished his foot under Lance's own, but the taller guy didn't seem to mind. Lance spun him in a delicate circle, and their dancing slowly came to life. With careful steps, Lance pulled him back into his embrace, Keith's hands against his chest as he looked into those deep, purple eyes. He was suddenly overwhelmed.

 _I don't deserve this  
You look perfect tonight_

"You better get those straight As, McClain."

* * *

Why did he come to Chicago? It's a question Lance is frequently asked. Chicago is cold and rains all the time. Lance actually prefers a warmer climate. Denver was perfect. Going to the university in Chicago is one thing, but he was also accepted to the university of Denver. To be perfectly honest, Lance had always been keen on moving somewhere far away. Chicago wasn't exactly far… but it's a step. Lance wanted a change in his life. He wanted to find something to ground him. There was nothing in Denver to keep him in place. Nothing but bad break-ups and weak-willed indecisiveness.

Now that he found Keith, he wanted him to be that something to ground him. But Keith was a clandestine he had yet to identify. He was an epitome that was unattainable. And Lance is about to learn why.

One a rare day such as today, where Lance would come home later than Keith, he would sometimes find the older boy sprawled out on the couch with the TV on. Every so often he'd be asleep, like right now. Lance toed off his sneakers and his socks, scooting closer to the couch. He knew he was being a creep, but he couldn't help himself, alright? Keith was – Keith looked the best when he was sleeping. He didn't pinch his brows like he was worried or purse his mouth into a frown in a distasteful manner. Sleeping Keith seemed so peaceful, like he belonged there, on Lance's old, tiny couch.

One of those lilac eyes cracked open. "Hi."

Lance smiled down. "Hey,"

Keith pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling his arms as he stretched out. Lance could see the pale skin peeking from the way his shirt rode up his stomach. He worried about Keith's lack of proper winter clothing sometimes. "Anytime now," Keith mumbled.

"Huh?"

"You. To stop being a creep." Keith remarked. "Eyes up here, amigo."

Lance snickered, joining him on the couch. "Si, Si, hermoso."

"Oh. You do speak Spanish." Keith muttered, more to himself.

Lance hooted, throwing himself back against the cushion. "Who, me? Nah man, I was born in Denver – I took Spanish class for a year, yeah, but that's it. My mom _is_ from Cuba though," he reached his hand to touch a strand of Keith's hair. "I remember back in Spanish class all these kids were looking at me like they expected me to speak fluent Spanish… when all I could pronounce perfectly was _estoy cachondo_."

"Hm? And what does that mean?"

" _Es secreto_ ~" Lance whistled, his fingers playing the end of Keith's hair.

Keith turned his body to face him, a pout on his lips. He knew enough Spanish to understand what Lance just said. "Ass." He grumbled.

They stared at each other, not blinking. The air stirred. Lance moved his head closer to Keith. "I know, I have the best ass around here."

Keith rolled his eyes, smiling. "We both know that's not true."

Unexpectedly, Lance's free hand had drifted to settle on top of Keith's lap. If Keith was bothered, he didn't comment on it. Instead he sat frozen, eyes lighting up in both wariness and excitement. Lance leaned in closer, the end of Keith's hair tickling his cheek. "Hm? Would you do a double take on that?" his voice was surprisingly low and husky. Lance was very aware of what is happening. His mind was on full alerts, like an alarm going off inside of his head, telling him to _stop stop stop_ – but Keith's very smell was flooding his senses, making his insides numb with feelings.

So many feelings.

Lance kissed Keith and the world just disappeared. It was slow and soft, and completely unadulterated – just a chaste press of their lips. His hand rested below Keith's ear, thumb caressing his cheek as their breaths mingled. You'd think that after all the dates he'd been through, all the stupid flings he was in – that he would know what to expect of a simple kiss. But he hadn't imagined how warm and perfect Keith was, pressed against his lips. Lance was addicted. So he pushed closer, itching to get more of that warmth –

But strong arms kept him in place before gently shoving him away. They parted, both with bewilderment mirrored in their eyes.

They both knew it was coming.

"Lance…" Keith said, almost breathless. He wouldn't meet Lance's eyes as he brought his finger to his own lips. "Why?"

As Keith stood up and closed the door to his room, Lance's world fell apart.

(Keith stopped sleeping on the couch from that point on.)


	4. Chapter 4

Keith avoided him like a plague. When Lance's family came over for Thanksgiving, Keith was nowhere to be found. Lance really shouldn't have done that. (the kiss)

 **December**

"You've been talking about him nonstop. Just admit that you have a massive crush on him, Lance."

"I – uh – no – ummm."

"See? You stuttered." Pidge said, twisting the green straw on her hand.

"Well, I mean, he caught my eyes from the first time we met, okay! What do you expect! I'm a weak man!"

"So? Ask him out." Pidge made it sound so easy! Lance huffed out at her.

"No way!" He shook his head. Without thinking, he reached over to yank the straw from her hand. It was getting annoying. "He blatantly told me I'm not his type – 'sides he's been too asshole-y lately, I don't know if my heart could even handle it!"

"Lance. You wouldn't know until you tried."

"Pidge. Believe me, I know." While Lance and Pidge were arguing, Hunk was watching them with growing anxiety. "I… I kissed him."

Pidge looked taken aback for a moment, her glasses askew. "You… what?! O – okay. What was his reaction?"

Lance exhaled through his nose and turn his head to his right, refusing to meet his friends' questioning gazes. He bit his lower lips involuntarily.

"Oh, Lance…" Hunk finally opened his mouth, spontaneously scooting closer to where Lance was sitting. Pidge furrowed her eyebrows.

"Don't 'Oh Lance' him, Hunk! Listen – If he hates you, he'd probably left your place already, Lance. You gotta talk it out with him, dude."

Lance twisted in his seat, facing Pidge. His face alight with anger. He didn't know why Pidge would say such a thing. "How am I supposed to 'talk it out' when he's doing his absolute best to try to avoid me?!"

"Maybe he's just shy?" Hunk tried.

"Yeah. Think about us, Lance. Do you really think you could make us listen to your hopeless pining adventure and not expect us to push you in his direction?"

Lance fisted his hands, his fingers shaking. "He has a crush on Allura's boyfriend, okay? How am I supposed to top _that_?! I'm just this… dumb skinny kid from Colorado who talks too much." He told her exactly what he'd been repeating to himself in his heart over and over.

Both Pidge and Hunk looked dumbfounded. There was a hefty silence before Pidge started talking again, slowly this time, "Lance, we all know that's not true."

"You know what? Just, Just forget it. Lance McClain has a crush on someone – boo hoo, big deal. Lance does that all the time. It's stupid and it'll pass." Lance waved his hand dismissively and melted against the cushion.

Pidge was stunned into silence. Finally! Hunk looked hurt though. Their stares boring holes in Lance. He leaned more and more into the chair, until he could pretend he didn't see them.

He wasn't angry at Pidge. He was angry at himself mostly, for what he did to Keith, for his selfish expectations. He supposed this is what they had been heading toward all along, from the minute he invited Keith into his house; inevitable heartbreak was all that awaited him. His unattainable dream.

* * *

Lance waited for Keith to come back until it was almost midnight. He was on his 3rd cup of coffee when he heard the familiar clatter of key unlocking. His muscles stiffened, mentally preparing himself for confronting Keith. What was he going to say to him? He had no idea, honestly. But Pidge's words kept repeating itself inside his head, and the last thing he knew he was standing in front of the counter at the middle of the night, fingers gripping his mug a little too tightly.

Keith's modest winter coat was drenched by the snow, his boots making wet patches all across the floor.

"Hey." He said, gruff voice floating within the tense air inside the room. "I made you coffee? But it's probably cold by now – "

"Thanks but I should probably go to bed…" Keith reached out to his doorknob, his movement sluggish.

"Keith." Lance's voice was firm, final. Keith froze. He tapped the still-full cup of coffee with nails, signaling him to come. Wordlessly, Keith slipped his boots off and crept to the kitchen area. He grabbed the cup, thankfully still warm against his chilly fingers and brought it to his lips.

"Thanks." He said after swallowing down the drink. It was stale – like Lance hadn't put any mind while making it. "I… um I have work early so…" he pointed at the door to his room, a crooked grin on his face.

Lance tsk-ed, narrowing his eyes. "How long are you gonna keep this up?"

Keith stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

Lance hardly ever showed deeper emotion beyond mild irritation. He showed a jolly, chirpy and polite interest towards his family and friends, and otherwise kept himself to himself. But today was different, Keith's words, his every movement, every sharp glare he threw his way, voiced their frustrations from their previous days and Lance just… wanted to explode. "Are you just going to pretend that nothing happened?"

"Because nothing happened." Keith answer was cold, slicing through the dry winter air.

"No – something did happen!" Lance yelled. "If you were against it you could've pushed me away but you didn't!" there was something in that shout, a pain behind it. Lance watched as Keith's eyes widened for a fraction of second before he willed it back to the same scowl Lance had grown accustomed to.

"It's better this way." Keith said, carefully. "To pretend." Every word that left his mouth only fueling the fire burning inside of Lance.

"Why did you say that? How could you –"

"Because I can't give you what you want, Lance!" Keith didn't just raise his voice, his muscles tensed and he slammed the mug down to the countertop. "You shouldn't expect anything from me! This… everything… is just momentary. I have nothing. I'm just a–"

"It's not that you can't… you're just not willing."

"Maybe you should stop acting like you know me!"

"Maybe _you_ should stop thinking you're a burden, Keith!" Lance's voice seemed to shake the walls. Keith's face turned crimson. Lance knew that when tension is high he should be sensible instead of angry, but sometimes it just wasn't that easy with Keith. "That's right. I know what you thought of yourself, Keith. And that's not true. I never thought of you as one."

Keith stood with hard staring eyes that didn't blink. "You're delusional, Lance. You, with your wide, luxurious flat, your caring friends, and warm, gentle relatives – you think _you_ understand me?"

"Keith – " Lance moved closer to him but he swatted his hand away. "God – just fucking listen!" Lance raised his voice and Keith visibly flinched. At that show of vulnerability, the fire in Lance's eyes died down.

Keith merely shook his head, breath coming out in short gasps. "Y-You should just stick to picking up whores off the bar, Lance, and leave me alone. Stop acting like you care when all you want to do is get in my fucking pants! I don't want you, Lance. I don't! I thought I made myself clear?" The words just flew out like he didn't even think about it. Lance's eyes enlarged in shock, mouth agape. Keith knew instantly from the look on Lance's face that he'd hit the mark. "You know what? Perhaps I should just let you have your way. Maybe then you'll finally realize that I'm not that worth it – "

"You know that's not what I…" Lance's voice was laced with hurt. "I do care about you."

Keith cast his eyes downward, watching the floor. His arms were shaking, but he hugged himself to try and stop it. When he finally answered, it was with a self-deprecating sneer. Lance hated that look on his face "You mustn't. You should've just let me freeze to death outside. It seemed less… problematical." He muttered quietly. "I'm sorry you have to deal with me. If I could stay at Shiro's place, I would – "

Lance banged his fist into a nearby wall, the sound of it got Keith to snap his head back upright. Before he could listen to anything else Keith wanted to say, he grabbed his coat and walked outside, shutting the door with a loud bang.

In that instant their relationship shattered into glassy shards. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Lance was ankle-deep in the snow when suddenly, he wanted to cry. The last time he cried was when he was 11 when his stupid bike was broken apart. He didn't even cry when Nyma dumped him in front of his friends on Valentine's day. Or when Plaxum slapped him behind the Christmas tree.

Why did he pick Keith up?

Why was he so concerned?

Lance was ankle-deep in the snow, nose red and eyes started to flood when he realized he had fallen in love.

 _It'll pass._


	5. Chapter 5

**December**

 _I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you._

Keith needed to make that clear.

Keith knew instantly, that the room he was sleeping in used to belong to Lance; from the messy clutter on the desk, the colorful choices of wardrobe, and the tattered band posters pasted on the walls. There were also small collection photographs of what it seemed to be Lance and his whole family – smiling wide and bright it was almost blinding. The room was also the only place inside the flat with a striking blue window panel. Whenever the sun's about to set the room would glow in soft blue hue; warm and placating.

The room reminded Keith of a childhood he never had.

Lance had looked troubled, back then. He didn't even dare to try to refute Keith's argument. Keith needed to make it clear that he isn't some sentimental idiot looking for his pity. He was trying to explain things from his perspective. But Lance, that idiot, had said in a whispery voice, "I do care about you." and Keith almost lost his goddamned mind.

So, he snapped. At that moment, he was blinded by distress. He felt guilty but couldn't stop. His every word was clipped, slicing into the air. And then the next thing he knew, he had hurt Lance.

Lance, the guy who picked him up like a stray pup and gave him a chance to start again.

Lance, who made a perfectly shaped pancake.

Lance, who bought him his mother's favorite flower for his birthday.

Lance, who stole his dumb, insignificant first kiss.

Lance was perfect, and way out of his reach.

For the entirety of his life, Keith was protected behind a perfectly carved mask, hiding that which he found repellant. He was distant. Never get too attached – because everything will end, people will throw you away and you'll be all alone ultimately. Yet in the end, what broke him was the very thing he had tried to avoid.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. And then there was this kiss they had shared; it started spinning around and around in his head as well. So, he started packing everything he owned into his battered red backpack, eager to leave the safety of this Lance-scented room.

When he finally managed to slink into the 24-hour diner, Shiro was already there on a lone stool just behind the bar. His coffee was already cold. He looked around the place. It was almost empty. Good thing it was in a middle of the night.

As he hopped onto the stool, Shiro greeted him with an understanding smile. "Hey buddy. What's up?"

"Hey," he greeted back with less enthusiasm. "Coke please." He said to the server who nodded immediately.

"Sooo." Shiro started, stirring his half-empty cup of coffee. "I suppose since you've never called me in the dead of the night before, this is about Lance, right?"

"Yeah, um. Sorry about that." Keith said with a nod of his head. "How's Allura?"

"She's fine, we were just watching a hockey match when you called."

"Oh. Um. Send her my regards."

"Sure."

"You look well."

"You too." Shiro said coughing into his hand. "I mean. Kind of."

Keith's order arrived, and he spent almost two minutes biting into the straw rather than drinking the coke.

Shiro rested his chin on his palm, looking in Keith's direction. "So you wanna talk about it?"

Keith threw his belongings roughly down on the stool beside him. "I think I'll try to persuade Chester to take me back in until I find somewhere new to settle into."

"Wait, what?" Shiro straightened immediately, his expression morphed into that of a concerned older brother. "What happened with Lance?"

"We had a little argument?"

Shiro looked at him perfectly serious – which made Keith annoyed.

"We fought." He corrected. Shiro appeared a little disappointed. The guilt that had already piled up inside of Keith's gut just doubled its amount. "It wasn't me! He – he started it!" he didn't lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either.

"You're not a baby, Keith. People fight. Just… go make up or something. I don't think I'm down with you going back with Chester. What he did to you… was awful, Keith."

Keith was shocked. He shook his head. "No, no. I… I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

Keith hesitated. "What do you mean?"

"You're always like this, Keith. How long do you think we've known each other?"

 _Apparently not long enough for you to realize my_ _apparent feeling for you_. He pushed the thought away. Somehow it didn't bother him as much as it used to. "You and Lance both – would the two of you quit assuming you know me? I don't wear my heart on my sleeves." When he saw Shiro wipe away the sweat that had beaded along his temple, Keith tried to change the topic. "Anyway, never mind that. I need you to help me talk to Chester."

"No, Keith. I am not talking to Chester, and neither are you. He's a dick, and we both know that." Keith felt a tug on his lips at Shiro's choice of word. Usually he tried to avoid using vile language 'cause he knew Allura hated it. "What happened between you and Lance? Did he do something bad? Was it something he said?"

"It's… complicated. But no, Shiro. Lance he…" Keith sighed, suddenly feeling weary and overwhelmed. "He would never do anything to hurt me. He's really nice. And gentle. Serious and earnest. And he has a nice smile. He's textbook perfect."

Keith knew Shiro was watching him with growing amusement, but he'd never felt this awful before in his entire life. He brought his hands together and buried his face in them.

"He's perfect and I hurt him, Shiro. I made him run off from his own house. And it's killing me." He groaned, careful not to turn it into a helpless sob. "Right now I can't even stop thinking about him. What if he hates me? What if he throws me away? I thought I was ready for it. I mean, I _am_ ready. I've been ready my whole life – but now suddenly the thought scared me to death – I… I – " Keith felt his panic begin like a whirlwind inside his lungs. His thoughts were accelerating in his head. His breath came in gasps and he felt the edge of his vision turned black. Shiro was immediately at his side, gentle hand rubbing circles on his back. Lance hated him. He must've hated him right now, if Lance was any normal person. Keith had said some horrible, horrible things and it had completely shattered the already fragile relationship they had going on. Even when Keith acted like an annoyance, Lance still tried to try to mend things. He was so good and kind, and Keith was nothing but an enraging freeloader.

"Keith. Relax. Breathe with me." Shiro whispered softly, soothing the knot in his head. "You're okay. Lance is gonna be okay. It's fine."

He was still shaking as he pushed himself back into a seating position, but his breath gradually evened out. Shiro still had his hand behind him. He tried to match his breathing with Shiro, but what came out was a suffocating sob. He didn't even realize he'd cried. He couldn't help to think that he was replaceable – that whatever feeling Lance held for him was nothing sort of a forced distraction. It could be anyone. Lance could go home with anyone that night at the bar and still fell for them. Anyone else would be a better pick for Lance, he thought. Keith sobbed harder.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Just know that I'll always be here for you, Keith. And so is Lance."

Keith shook his head, wiping the tears with the back of his hand. "I – I don't know, Shiro. Sometimes I feel like I don't even belong anywhere. That nobody wants me. It's… it's the same with him too." he sniffed. "Once he… Once he got to know the _real_ me he'll throw me away too, like everyone else did and I… if it's him I – I don't know if I can handle it."

"Have you talked it out with him? like _really_ talk it out. Ask him what he wants?"

"Uh… no… I…"

"Keith…" Shiro sounded disheartened.

"I snapped out, okay? It's what I do. Like my self-defense mechanism or something." He grumbled, crossing his arm. He didn't look too intimidating with teary eyes and snot running down his nose.

"Keith, it's different this time. How about you stop being so obstinate and hear him out for a change?"

"But, I'm scared… Shiro." He swallowed down the lump in his throat. "What if I don't ever want to know his answer? Or if there was nothing for us instead? I… I can't. I don't think I can be more attached than I already am."

"So you'll let your fear overpower your desire?"

Keith didn't come up with a smart answer. He couldn't. "You know very well just how big my fear is."

"Yes, and I also happen to know that you're far stronger than those fears of yours. You've been fighting them your whole life – alone. But you've changed now. You're not alone – you never were, and you're… happy; and God knows that's all I ever ask of you. And you're the happiest when you're with him. Don't even try to convince me otherwise."

Shiro cared about him. Like _really_ cared. It's making him so damn emotional. Keith fidgeted with the hem of his sleeves, growing restless with worry. "…What do you want me to do then?"

Shiro grabbed him by the shoulders and turned Keith around to face him. "Stop running away and give yourself a chance." Keith watched him with wide, glimmering eyes. "Now come here and give me a hug."

He shook his head. "Noooooo," But Shiro leaned inanyway, and soon he was enveloped by strong arms around his waist, propelling him forward. It took a while for Keith to finally cave in and melt into the hug, and when he did, he thought he'd feel his heartbeat quicken or his throat tighten – but all he felt was ease.

* * *

When Keith returned, hours later, the place was still as dark as he left it. He presumed Lance would be sleeping at Hunk's place and he was surprisingly okay with it. He was an ass and if Lance needed time away he would give it to him. What he didn't expect was Lance, sleeping on the couch still with his sneakers on, head tucked between his raised knees. Keith almost jumped to his feet. All his previous thoughts and worries came back flooding into his system but he clenched his hands, determined. He remembered what Shiro had said earlier and felt a wee bit lighter.

He tiptoed into his room, dropped his backpack and seized the soft, beige colored duvet from inside the dresser. He draped the blanket around Lance's hunched shoulder, watching as those deep blue eyes slowly open up.

"Keith?" his voice was small and heavy with sleep, but there was a tint of hope.

"Uh. Hey. Sorry I wake you up." Came the whispered reply. "Mind if I join you?"

Lance merely shook his head drowsily and Keith took it as his cue to climb onto the couch right next to him. Lance radiated a familiar warmth Keith'd grown accustomed to. There was a pregnant pause – where the silence became too loud he could hear his own rapid heartbeat. When the guilt came again to haunt him, Keith took in a deep breath. Lance was as quiet, except for his calm breathing. Keith almost thought he'd went back to sleep but there were movements from the corner of his eye.

His gaze landed on the tiny potted marigolds – lining up nicely on the window stool. Suddenly he was filled with warmth. He wanted to do better – wanted to make things right. For once, he wanted to follow where the deepest part of his heart could take him.

"My mom once told me that marigold has many different meanings in each part of the world." He began, a little timid. "Victorian flower experts considered it a symbol of despair and grief, which is shared with the Mexican culture linking it to the tribute of the dead during _Dia de Muertos_. It is also linked it with cruel treatment towards a loved one. Modern meanings focus on the sunny color and beauty in its place, giving the flower a meaning of optimism and success instead."

Even though Marigold has a few negative implications over the years, most of what it means remains positive in present-day times. And despite that, marigolds have been used as love charms and fused into wedding garlands. **"** Keith picked on his nails nervously, his cheeks growing warm. "I guess that's why she likes it so much."

"It's pretty." Lance mumbled in agreement. Keith nodded, even though he knew Lance wasn't looking in his direction.

"My mother… she's a war photographer. She also volunteers a lot." Keith swallowed. "She left when I was six and I've lived with my father until he passed away when I was twelve. I've been living alone since then. I thought my mom would come back… but she didn't. Weird, huh." He rested his head against his arm and laughed bitterly. "The only way to know whether she's alive or not is by checking her photography blog. I've been following her ever since, but I never left any comments or… anything whatsoever. I guess in a way… I am angry at her."

He heard the sound of sheet rustling and turned around to see Lance staring right at him, eyes warm and understanding. "Keith…" He whispered. The two of them seemed to have a silent conversation as they gazed into each other's eyes. Lanced moved in first and Keith mentally patted himself in the back for not flinching or backing out. "I know you didn't mean what you said back then, but you clearly want to talk about something. So, whatever it is, I'll hear it. I won't judge you or anything."

Keith waited, silently staring at his favorite chestnut-colored hair. "It's just that. I have a hard time. In trusting someone. And I'm sorry if I hurt you."

Lance reached out his hands but stopped halfway, silently asking for permission. When Keith slowly bobbed his head, Lance cradled his face in his hands. Keith was thankful he didn't comment on how the rim of his eyes was red and puffy, and how his nose was still clogged with snot. Instead, he had this tender expression on his face that made Keith want to melt into him. "Keith, listen. I meant what I said, okay? You're never a burden. Not to me. And I don't want you to keep hurting yourself over that, do you understand?"

Keith was reluctant, but he nodded again.

"I'm sorry I left too. I admit I was a little… taken aback. But I'm fine. I'm happy that you decided to come here and talk to me," Lance chuckled. His laughter was sweet and clear, that could be heard from a mile away, that would echo through the halls and to every room in the flat and could cheer Keith up. With each surge of laughter, he released some of the tension that had built between them. It always filled him with joy. "We're fine."

His smile was contagious, so Keith joined him until his cheeks ached from smiling too much. Then Lance's eyes landed on his lips, and he mimicked the motion. When those rich navy eyes settled back on his, expectations bubbled in his chest. He calmly shut his own eyes and tipped his chin forward.

"Don't you have an early shift today?"

One of his eyes cracked open. Keith imagined the sound of a record scratching somewhere in the back of his head. It was almost comedic. "What."

"Earlier you said…"

"Lance. It's almost five." Keith said matter of factly. _Get on with it_.

"Yes, then shouldn't you be getting ready?" Lance patted his thigh and climbed off the couch. He sauntered back into his own room.

Keith had never wanted to punch a guy so much before.


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the week was torturous for Keith Kogane.

Winter has always been a busy season at his workplace – and even with the added bonus, Keith still hated having to spray out hoses in a bone-chilling weather. Vehicles kept piling up day and night, that's because seconds after you get your car washed, it's dirty again. He'd heard his customers complaining about how they couldn't see anything past their windshield and how it's too cold to wash the car in the driveway. (In which Keith scoffed at that.) He was also required to drop by earlier than his regular for mandatory winter equipment checking. He had to wear more clothes to anticipate the weather too.

But even with the three layers of clothing, it still didn't do him justice to the cold treatment Lance was giving him.

Well, Lance wasn't exactly _cold_. Their interactions were just normal, and sort of… boring. Too fucking normal, like this time Lance was the one who deliberately trying to pretend nothing ever happened. They greeted each other and have meals together when they had the time, but Lance didn't touch him more than necessary, didn't plan on countering any suggestive comments Keith literally threw at him, and he obviously didn't plan on _kissing_ Keith anytime soon.

(And it was devastating, okay. For Keith, at least.)

He was reluctant to admit it but no matter what soothing words Lance had told him, the things Keith had vented at the guy had changed their relationship. And not for the good.

"Remember when you asked me about… Shiro?" Keith asked one day, perched on top of the stool, morning day sunlight permeated through the open window. It was a relatively warm day, and both Keith and Lance were lucky enough to have nothing planned for the day.

"Yeah? What about him?" Lance replied from where he was seated on the couch, the TV at the lowest volume.

They weren't even looking at each other. "I don't really know the answer but…I barely think about him anymore these days." He said distractedly, feet swinging underneath the bar. "I guess it was nothing but a silly crush. I mean… he only grew on me 'cuz he was my childhood friend. Even when he told me he was dating Allura I… I wasn't agitated or brokenhearted. I'm just… genuinely happy for him."

It was still so hard for him to open up, but he was trying his best, okay? He waited and waited, until he grew anxious, for Lance to say something back.

"I see. You're a good guy, Keith."

But it wasn't the kind of answer Keith wanted to hear.

"Why did you tell me that, all of a sudden?" Lance finally spun around to face him.

"Because I'm leaving." Keith mumbled in response, more to himself than to Lance. "It's just a small, cheap place downtown. The landlord texted me yesterday. And I already have enough money for the lease."

"…You're leaving?" Lance spoke as if Keith leaving wasn't something he had anticipated. Silly.

"Yeah? I mean, of course I would, right? I said so didn't I, the first time we met?"

"Oh. I see. Alright then."

"Yep." Keith dug his nails into his palm, hands clenching. "Next Monday. On the 23rd."

Lance didn't respond. Okay, weird. That was weird.

"Guess I should get packing, then."

Stupid, idiotic Lance. Cowardy custard. Just say it, will you? One word, and I'm all yours.

* * *

The days went by like a blur. Keith spent most of his time at his workplace, working his ass off before the anticipated Christmas break. Not that he has anyone to spend Christmas with. Ever since the death of his father, Keith loathed Christmas with all his being. He thought Christmas trees are ridiculous with its flickering lights and silvery ornaments. The tiers of colorful lights hanging on the plain wall on Lance's apartment had also offended him.

Lance was standing before him with a too long sweater that Keith couldn't hate more. His arms crossed, trying to look as nonchalant as possible despite the obvious restlessness in his eyes.

They were at the doorway – Keith already had his boots on, ready to leave the suffocating flat for good. And not look back. But maybe a peek. Maybe. He turned a frozy gaze on Lance.

"So. Here it is."

"Yeah." Lance toyed with a loose strand on his sweater sleeve.

"It's weird, huh? Everything that had happened to us these past few months…"

"Well. I don't regret it." Lance said, surprisingly honest.

"Neither do I." Keith responded.

"We'll talk. I'll call you!"

"Yeah… I mean – of course."

"Soooo." Lance drawled, his fingers fidgeted more and more. Keith could feel his patience wearing thin.

"That's it then. I'm leaving."

"Okay." But neither of them moved. Keith tried once more.

"I'm leaving, Lance."

"I know, Keith!" Lance barked suddenly, startling Keith. There was an unmistakable desperation in his tone, but he didn't say anything else. They were just kind of… staring at each other, unmoving, until the little thread on Keith's mind snapped and he rubbed his face exasperatedly. He took a deep breath.

"I'm fucking leaving. For real." He growled, brows furrowing. "Unless you have something other in mind. That you want to say to me. Then I'm all ears."

Lance wheezed. Keith suddenly recalled just how stubborn the kid can be. " _You_ look like you have something to say to me. Let's hear you first."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No." Lance draped his arms in front of him once more and leaned back against the doorfraame. And that was it for Keith. Whatever little restraint he had, he threw them all out of the window as he fisted the collar of Lance god-awful sweater and yanked him forward into a bruising kiss. It was completely different from the kiss they had shared previously. This one wasn't sweet or innocent – it wasn't a tease but hot, fiery, passionate and demanding. It was a hard press of lips against lips, then a rough tug on his scalp.

When Lance melted into him, hands searching for purchase around his head, it nearly knocked all the wind out of his lungs.

When they separated with a loud, wet noise, Lance was looking at him like Keith was something otherworldly. "What the bloody quiznak – "

"Good bye, Lance." Keith moved to turn, but suddenly there were arms around him, keeping him in place.

"No – wait – don't go!" said Lance in a rush, the sudden panic apparent in his voice. "Don't leave."

Keith remained impassive; merely raising an eyebrow.

"You can't just. Leave after doing that! What the fuck, Keith." Lance loosened his hold, but still maintaining a close distance to him. "You said I wasn't your type!"

Keith shrugged it off. "Doesn't mean I can't fall for someone who's not my type. In the end, they're just preferences."

"F – F – Fall?! Keith?! You? with… me?!"

"Look, it's nice having a heart to heart session with you, but I got an appointment I can't miss." Keith spoke sarcastically. Lance winced, the look on his face caused a small smile to appear on Keith's lips.

"Wait!" Lance jumped, hands tight on Keith's shoulders. "Then… Then don't leave. I… stay with me. Please." His voice suddenly became small, like a whisper. He sounded scared. "I – I mean, if you want to. But I…"

"You…?"

"I want you. To stay." Lance said with clarity. "I really like you, Keith. A lot. And if it's alright with you I'd like to – "

As soon as the word left Lance's mouth, everything else seemed like a blur. He smiled, flashing brilliant white teeth as he leaped and wrapped his arms around Lance's neck, pulling him into a tight, bone-crushing embrace. Lance yelped and Keith could've sworn he said something but Keith didn't hear it – he couldn't hear anything besides the loud rush of blood in his ears. His heart felt so full it almost hurt, and he wanted to cry. Maybe he did cry, but with the way his face was pressed into Lance's neck, no one could tell.

"Thank you," he sobbed, not sure if Lance could hear but he didn't care. "Thank you."

(Lance took him to his family house in Denver for Christmas.)


	7. Epilogue

**February**

Soon after the warm sun rays had begun to penetrate the room, Lance heard the bed creak underneath him. There was a dip in the mattress as Lance felt the presence of someone closing in and he opened his eyes to see the familiar smile he had come to love so much.

"So. There's something I need to tell you." Keith told him, hovering atop of him with a toothy grin.

"Hm? I'm listening."

"Right. Please understand that I've been thinking about this for a while now, and I hope you'd be happy with my decision."

"You know I'm happy with anything that'll make you happy, babe." Lance mumbled, brushing Keith's reddish cheek with the back of his hand. His skin was cold to the touch.

"I think," Keith began softly, his breath smell of mint. "I'll go back to college. Take a few scholarship tests here and there."

Lance instantly pushed himself into a sitting position, Keith following through. "Y – You are?!"

Keith bobbed his head enthusiastically; his smile could match the sun. "Uh-huh. And I'm thinking about going with something more in my area of expertise. Like Astrophysics or something…"

"Oh, wow… Keith! Baby, that's… that's great news!" Lance declared with growing excitement. He pulled Keith into a hug, burying his nose into the crook of his neck. "Oh God, I'm so thrilled I don't even know what to say I – "

"You really don't have to say anything." Keith drew back, their noses just inches apart. He felt warm everywhere; from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. Lance looked at him like he was his world, like he was important, like he mattered and needed, and that was all he ever wanted. "Just stay."


End file.
